Santiago del Dardano Turann

I was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, in April of 1968 and grew-up in rural Butler county. I do not have a college degree and have worked blue collar jobs my whole adult life. I only began to write poetry in 2006.

GHOST OF A MAYAN HOLY LORD UPON THE RUINS

This valley has not changed in centuries;
The earth remains no matter what man does
And mist will cover both the crops and trees
Just as it did. The morning rainstorm was

Like grinding maize and pounding out tortillas
But after it, like death, there comes a moment
When all the clatter of a day's agendas
Are wrung out like a thunder cloud that's spent.

Perched on ethereal beams in empty space
I'm not unlike some faded quetzel watching
The slow decay of this once painted palace
With all my phantom feather armor flowing

Upon dead winds that chill warm mortal flesh
With echoes of Xibalba's bats. But still,
Live on, my people, live and make life fresh
For I am here to watch, all always will.